A Soldier in the Dust
by DESRTpunk
Summary: An almost aimless narrative from just another soldier in the New California Republic Army.
1. Chapter 1

If I had to describe the Mojave in one word, I'd say: draining.

I know, I know. You were expecting me to say "hot" or "shitty", and yeah the Mojave is all those too. But if there's one thing, and I bet the entire wasteland is willing to agree on, is that the Mojave is draining.

It's like some big, dusty, malnourished, dick-shaped leech with a bad liver that just sucks everything out of you. I've seen quite a bit of soldiers come here with hopes and dreams and leave with empty pockets and a couple odd infections.

Not like there was anything better to do back at home. It was just as bad. Difference was, at least the people and places were a hell of a lot more familiar in the NCR.

My mom was a servant for some rich lady back west. Never really figured out what she did for that lady, but if she was a "servant" like they got out here in the Strip, then my old lady must've been damn skilled at her job if she was bagging those high class ladies. You can say my mom played for the opposite team.

She'd bring friends from work home every once in a while. What a generous woman right? That's where I got my first taste of a woman. Not from my mom, no. I mean from her work friends. They'd come home, knock back some whiskey, rip a little jet, and then sit around doing whatever dykes do when they're fucked up. One of them decided that I looked delicious and had her way with me. No complaints here. My mom's fucked up, so-called co-workers were the only real tail I ever had besides the whores here in Vegas. Wasn't exactly a lady killer growing up, or now for that matter...

I wish I could say at least my father had a cool job but he was a pushover who worked a desk job at some Crimson Caravan office. He was a "Crimson Caravan Caravan Logistics Coordinator", redundancy and all. From what I could tell he had a spreadsheet that he stared at all day and somehow made enough sense of it to know which caravans were going where. I worked there for a couple weeks as a kid as a gopher but I got fired for stealing Nuka-Colas.


	2. Chapter 2

When I turned seventeen, I got the bright idea to go ahead and sign a contract with the NCR Army. The way I saw it, I wasn't doing anything back in Hub. I didn't have a job, didn't have a place of my own, and I didn't have anything to do. Idle hands do the devil's work and somehow a week after signing the dotted line, I was doing pushups in the sand with some short asshole kicking sand and rocks in my face yelling at me to push harder.

Recruit training wasn't too unbearably difficult.

They say recruit training used to be two or three months a long, long time ago. I would have gone insane if I'd have been there that long. The current time to make a shiny new NCRA soldier is three weeks, which if I may say so is the perfect amount of time.

From different parts of the NCR, we all arrived in a small, cheap hotel. The next morning we were to board a personnel transport that would take us to the Recruit Training Camp. We were on the government's dime, and if you pack a bunch of dirty teenagers under one roof on their way to slavery, they will get out of hand.

I can't tell you what happened that night at the hotel, and it's not due to secrecy. One of the guys there had pulled a couple handles of whiskey out of nowhere and needless to say those bottles were gone by the next morning. Last thing I remember was getting into a headbutting contest with a big corn fed motherfucker to impress this cute girl from Shady Sands.

I woke up lying face down under a table with a massive headache. I got up to go leak, stepping over the bodies of who would eventually be my fellow soldiers. There was a few guys who apparently could get lucky even here, a female wrapped up in their arms. If anyone ever asked, I'd tell them that during the muster night prior to our arrival at RTC I slept with two girls. At the same time. Also they were twins.

The personnel transport arrived while I was at the toilet. I came back to a bunch of weather looking soldiers in military fatigues screaming at the top of their lungs to get up and get in the transport. They were kicking the couple of guys still passed out till they'd wake up and scramble their way into the transport.

I stumbled through the chaos, trying to make my way to the transport without getting kicked, puked on or yelled at. I tried pushing past this bastard who was in my way and too late I realized it was one of the drill sergeants. I took a chop to the neck as he yelled "GET TO THE GODDAMN TRANSPOOOOORT!" in my face and a fine shower of spit and who knows what else came splashing across my face.

"Yes siiiiiiir!" I yelled back at the top of my lungs, and hurried my way into the transport.


	3. Chapter 3

If I had to say, I'd say that the first week was the hardest.

We didn't sleep for the first three days. During this process we had to do all of our registration and medical screenings.

The second morning during the medical screening our entire platoon of 106 got into a long line in alphabetical order outside of medical. These so-called medical screenings were nothing more than an a couple old medical soldiers giving us the once over and asking us if we were fit for duty. I don't know what would have happened if we would have said we weren't, and no one in the platoon did.

As I got closer to the doors I could see into the building. My blood froze with terror as I looked at what was in store.

A cruel, sadistic and disturbed carnival of cruelty and sadism. As I saw my fellow recruits walk towards their impending doom, long auto-doc arms with long shiny needles reached out and hovered an inch away from their skin.

"Please relax," the needles plunged into their skin, delivering their poison. "Thank you."

There were a few other recruits that looked just as scared as I was, taking small, reluctant steps towards the vaccination auto-docs.

Finally it was my turn. I walked forward, surrounded by the claws of hell itself. I rolled up the sleeves on my shirt to my shoulders, fingers fumbling around nervously.

"Please relax," the soothing female voice came from the speakers. I shut my eyes tightly, feeling cold sweat beading up on my forehead. How the hell are we supposed to relax when some goddamn machines are shoving pieces of dull metal under our skin?

I jumped slightly as I felt the needles shoved into my shoulders, and both arms. "Please relax," the voice came once more. Yeah, easy for a cold-heart machine to say.


	4. Chapter 4

"Good afternoon recruits, my name is Sergeant Stoner and I will be leading you on your today's period of instruction." Sergeant Stoner was a young looking soldier but looked hardened and official. I would run into him again someday, but for now he was our swim instructor.

A few of the other recruits chuckled under their breath which did not go unnoticed. The drill sergeants came out of fuckin' nowhere I swear, and took those recruits out to get hazed.

"Today's period of instruction will be: Military Water Survival Training. The purpose of this period of instruction is to teach you recruits the necessary skills to survive in an aquatic environment, ensuring you sacks of shit don't drown and then burden your fellow soldiers by having to carry your nasty bodies back to your mothers."

We hadn't slept in two days now.

I looked around the room. We were in a big concrete building with a large glass dome skylight. In the middle of the room was a big pool, which probably had Pre-War water in it. The water had a greenish glimmer to it. I wondered if the pool was heated. Maybe a few years back some poor recruit had drowned in there in his quest to become an NCRA soldier. How many good kids had drowned in that pool? I looked around at the recruits sitting on the bleachers with me. How many of us were going to drown? Did Sergeant Stoner ever swim in this same pool? Did he know he was going to be a swim instructor?

"Thus concludes your period of instruction. You all now know your course of movement and when you are dismissed from this class, you will go grab your gear and line up at the far side of the pool. Do I have any questions over this last period of instruction?"

I refocused on Sergeant Stoner. He had just covered the basics on how to swim and what we had to do for the swimming course but I really hadn't paid attention. I looked around at some of the other recruits, some looked like they were too busy trying to stay awake to know what was going on. No one asked any questions, but the question on everyone's mind had to have been "Could you repeat yourself Sergeant?"

"Alright recruits you are dismissed. The recruits who need the basic swim instruction, get your sorry asses over to the far side of the pool and head over to Sergeant Leland so he can teach you all to not die."

All of the recruits got up and shuffled over to the gear locker. We all picked up a large pack full of who knows what, a realistic weight plastic rifle, and a helmet. We strapped on all our gear and made our way to the far side of the pool where Sergeant Stoner had been waiting. Obviously far too long of a wait because he already looked more pissed off than he was during the beginning.

"Alright recruits, get into four squads, and when I give the order, you will drop yourself into the pool. You will then make your way fifty meters down the pool where you will tread water for two minutes before being given permission to exit. If you touch the bottom of the pool, you will have failed today's course and you will be back here tomorrow. Do I have any questions at this time?" No one said anything. "Alright, first set go."

The first four recruits jumped into the pool. Their packs seemed to float which prevented you from using the front or side stroke without being pushed under. At least two of them seemed to have paid attention when they started kicking backwards to make their way down the pool.

I was in the third set, so I watched with nervous anticipation as the recruits in front of me dropped into the water. The trick to treading water seemed to be to relax and stay in control of your pack so it wouldn't push you under. I was ready for this, no problem.

It came time for us to drop in. I looked at the recruits in my set. There was a female there who looked like a fish and a skinny black guy that looked like he was going to be the one to drown. I guess it had to happen. The other was an Asian man who looked like he was far too old to enlist. I figured he was some kind of patriot but I found out later he had killed six people trying to rob a convenience store and he was either signing a contract with the army or going to prison... Shit.

We were given the order to jump in and we all took the plunge into the strangely warm water. It felt like we were swimming in spit.

I pulled my way to the surface and started kicking towards the other end of the pool. It was slow work and the pack made it to where I couldn't see behind me but I could see that I was ahead of the female by a good ten feet the entire time. I came to find out that the old Asian guy finished first and then the skinny black guy.

After a few minutes of kicking I got to the end where we had to tread water. My pack kept feeling heavier and heavier. I think it was taking in water, and it started pulling me down slowly. Before long I was down to my chin in water.

"Come on man, stay up. Just let the pack keep you up," the black guy said to me.

"I'm trying," I said, bubbling through the water. "My pack is taking water and it's weighing me down."

"What's wrong recruit?" Sergeant Stoner called out. "Can't hack a little water?"

I knew I had about twenty seconds left to wait, and I wish I could have told Sergeant Stoner about my pack, but by this point I was already underwater. I clawed my way up but the pack was too heavy and I kept sinking. I looked down as I sank and the bottom of the pool was coming up to meet me.

I remembered Sergeant Stoner saying that I'd fail if I touched the bottom. I realized I was going to be the one to drown. Maybe they'd send a letter home saying I died valiantly serving the NCR. Not like my parents would give a damn, but it would make my ghost feel better.

I couldn't quit now though, and I was starting to feel the burn in my lungs. This drowning business was not on the list of things to do. I undid the quick release clips on the pack and took off the rifle sling. I heard the gear click as it hit the pool bottom.

I broke the surface of the water and took a huge gasp of air. I coughed and spit for a second and I looked up to see Sergeant Stoner put his foot on top of my head and pushed down. I swam up to the surface again.

"Good job recruit. Now you are in enemy territory with no fuckin' supplies or a weapon. What the fuck are you gonna do now?" Sergeant Stoner yelled down at me.

"Sir, this recruit did not touch the bottom of the pool!" I told him.

"Your dumb ass has till the time the rest of the recruits finish to haul up that missing gear recruit!"

"Yes sir!" I answered.

I spent the next thirty minutes hauling up the pack piece by piece and then the plastic rifle.

Didn't touch the bottom once.


End file.
